Ordinarily, people’s sense of their
own self-importance makes it difficult for them to
believe in someone else’s superiority. Nevertheless,
aspiring to be good people, they feel obliged to
accept what is obviously true, for refusing to
accept manifestations of genuine goodness would show
a kind of stupidity that defies human dignity. Take
Ãcariya Mun, for example. I am unaware of any monk,
novice, or nun, who knew him well and understood
what he taught but remained so stubborn and
conceited that they refuse to accept the truth of
his teaching. Moreover, they all seemed to be quite
willing to sacrifice their lives for him.

The way of truth and purity, that he
taught in such detail, can be compared to a
discipline like mathematics: both are established in
fixed principles that give precise results when
followed correctly. For example, one plus one must
equal two, two plus two must equal four. No matter
how many multiples are calculated in this fashion,
the calculations will always be correct so long as
the basic rules are applied. Whether it is an adult
making the calculations, or a child, if the right
method is followed, then the results will inevitably
be correct. No matter how many people may come along
arbitrarily denying the validity of these basic
principles, their truth remains the same. Such
people merely display their own senseless stupidity.
Likewise, principles of Truth do not depend on the
whims of any particular age group, gender, or
nationality. They are accepted as irrefutable
natural laws. The principles of Dhamma, that the
Lord Buddha and the Arahants fully realized to be
true, can be proclaimed in their entirety with
absolute assurance about their validity.

Ãcariya Mun was one individual who
fully realized the principles of Truth within
himself. He could fully describe all the knowledge
about internal and external phenomena that he had so
clearly attained, without concern for the belief or
disbelief or the praise or criticism of others.
Every aspect of his internal practice – beginning
with moral discipline and samãdhi, and progressing
all the way to the absolute freedom of Nibbãna – was
declared openly and boldly so that his listeners
could make use of that knowledge according to their
own capabilities. He spoke fearlessly about the
external aspects of his practice, like devas,
brahmas, and various types of ghosts, leaving it up
to his listeners to investigate as best they could.
Besides receiving encouragement in their practice,
those who shared his natural inclination to perceive
such phenomena, were able to significantly broaden
the scope of their knowledge, enabling themselves to
deal expeditiously with the mysterious phenomena
they encountered.

Some of his disciples bore witness to
these phenomena, though they did not possess nearly
the mastery that he did. I’ll give you an example.
One night Ãcariya Mun received groups of devas late
into the night, having no chance to rest. Eventually
feeling very tired, he wanted to lay down for a
while. When yet another group of devas arrived late
that night, he explained to them that he was very
tired from receiving several previous groups and now
needed a rest. He requested that they go instead to
visit one of his disciples and listen to his Dhamma
discourse – which they did. When told what Ãcariya
Mun had said, this disciple agreed to talk with them
about Dhamma for awhile, after which they left.

The next morning this monk asked
Ãcariya Mun about the incident: “Last night a group
of devas came to visit me. They said that, before
coming to me, they had paid you a visit to request a
Dhamma teaching, but you were very tired and needed
a rest, so you sent them to me instead. Is this
true, or were they misleading me just so they could
listen to me talk about Dhamma? Feeling somewhat
skeptical, I wanted to ask you about it.”

Ãcariya Mun replied:

“Well, having already received
several groups of devas, I was dead tired. Then the
last group came, so I sent them to you, exactly as
they said. Believe me, devas never lie to monks.
They are not like human beings, who tend to be quite
deceitful and untrustworthy. When devas make a
promise, they always keep it; and when they make an
appointment, they are always right on time. I have
associated with terrestrial and celestial devas for
a long time now and I have never heard them say
anything false or deceitful. They are far more
honest and virtuous than humans are. They
scrupulously honor their word as if their very lives
depended on it. They will severely criticize anyone
who deviates from his word; and if that individual
does not have a genuinely sound reason for failing
to honor his commitments, they lose all respect for
him.

“They have criticized me sometimes,
though I had no intention of being dishonest. On
certain occasions I entered into a deep state of
samãdhi prior to the appointed hour. I became
absorbed there, only to find the devas waiting for
me when I finally withdrew to a level where I could
access them. When they reproached me for making them
wait so long, I explained that I had been resting in
samãdhi and inadvertently failed to withdraw at the
scheduled time, a reason which they accepted.

“Then there were other occasions when
I reproached the devas. I explained to them that I
am only one individual, yet tens or even hundreds of
thousands of devas from the upper and lower realms
insist on coming to visit this one monk: How could
anyone successfully manage to receive each and every
group exactly on time? There are times when my
health is not so good, yet I must patiently sit
there receiving visitors. You should sympathize with
some of the difficulties I face. Sometimes I’m
pleasantly absorbed in samãdhi, only to get roundly
criticized when I withdraw a little later than
scheduled. If that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll just
keep to myself and not waste my time and energy
receiving visitors. What do you say to that? When
rebuked like this, the devas invariably admitted
their mistake and immediately asked for forgiveness.

“Those devas who visit me often are
familiar with my way of doing things, so, they don’t
mind if I am a little late sometimes. It’s those who
have never come before that tend to mind my being
late, since by nature they place such a high value
on truthfulness. All devas from all realms,
including terrestrial devas, are the same in this
respect. Sometimes, being aware that I must withdraw
from a restful state of samãdhi to receive them,
they do worry about the moral consequences of
criticizing me for not keeping my word. I
occasionally counter their reproaches by telling
them I actually value my word more than my own life:
‘The reason that I did not withdraw from samãdhi in
time to receive you was due to an obligation I have
to Dhamma, which is something far more important
than any promise made to a deva. Although devas and
brahmas of the celestial realms possess nonphysical
forms more refined than this human body of mine, my
citta and my sense of truthfulness are exceedingly
more subtle than those of all the devas and brahmas
combined. But I am not one to talk incessantly about
such things like some idiot. I mention it to you now
only to remind you how important the Dhamma I
maintain really is. So please consider the
consequences carefully before criticizing me.’

“Once I explained my true priorities
to them, the devas realized their mistake and felt
very concerned about the moral implications of what
they had done. Together they asked for my
forgiveness. I made a point of assuring them that I
do not feel any resentment toward any living being
in the whole universe: ‘I put my trust in the Dhamma
of compassion and loving kindness which is devoid of
all forms of malice. My every activity is governed
by the Dhamma of absolute purity. Devas, on the
other hand, possess only wholesome intentions and a
sense of integrity – qualities that are not really
all that amazing. The Lord Buddha and the Arahants
possess an integrity that is pure because the Dhamma
in their hearts is absolutely pure. No living being
in the universe can possibly imagine just how
supremely amazing such a state of purity is. The
kind of integrity that devas observe is something
that exists within the sphere of conventional
reality. And the knowledge and the practice of it
are well within the range of all living beings. The
Dhamma integrity of a pure heart, however, is the
exclusive property of the Buddha and the Arahants.
No one who has yet to realize that attainment can
possibly comprehend it or put it into practice.
Whether or not I myself possess an absolutely pure
level of integrity is not a matter to boast about.
But please keep in mind that, in contrast to the
Dhamma integrity of the Lord Buddha and the Arahants,
the moral integrity that devas observe is neither
exceptional or unique.’ ”

Had Ãcariya Mun addressed these words
to human beings instead of devas, the humans would
probably have felt embarrassed – or something even
worse. But the devas were keen to hear his Dhamma,
and so listened with intense interest to what he
said. They were able to realize the mistake they
made in taking liberties with him out of their
ignorance of the situation. They were more than glad
to carefully guard their conduct after that. They
weren’t angered or offended in the least. Ãcariya
Mun said that such admirable behavior was truly
commensurate with their lofty plane of existence.

This brief example should serve as
food for thought about the mysterious phenomena
existing beyond the range of the physical senses.
Such phenomena are mysterious only to those unable
to perceive them; they cease to be a mystery to
those who can. This same principle applies to
dhammãbhisamaya. So long as the Lord Buddha was the
only person capable of comprehending the true nature
of Dhamma, that Dhamma remained a mystery to
everyone else. But once the Buddha’s Arahant
disciples comprehended that same Dhamma, its true
nature ceased to be a mystery to them. So it is with
the mysterious phenomena mentioned above: they cease
to be a mystery to those who can perceive them.

At the time of the Lord Buddha, he
and his Arahant disciples were the only ones capable
of fully comprehending the mysterious nature of
Dhamma, and the only ones capable of perceiving
every type of mysterious external phenomena. Such
things were not common knowledge. Many people at
that time were incapable of perceiving these
mysteries. At most, they had heard about such
things, and, after consideration, they came to
believe in them, being satisfied of their existence
even though they hadn’t perceived them directly.
Others, who also considered the matter, refused to
believe in these mysteries. This became a hindrance
to their practice, preventing them from unreservedly
following the Lord Buddha and his Arahant disciples.
It is the same today: only those possessing an
innate capacity to perceive these phenomena can
uncover their mysteries; for the rest it’s just
hearsay. Whether we choose to believe in such things
or not, there is unlikely to be any scientific
evidence to prove their existence. I too might have
been tempted to disbelieve, but I never found enough
reason to be skeptical. So I have tried to remain
impartial and simply write Ãcariya Mun’s story as he
and his senior disciples related it to me.

Although my knowledge of these
matters is not very astute, I must admit that my
heart is full of immense faith and respect for
Ãcariya Mun. If someone whom I trusted were to come
to me and suggest that I exchange my own life for
that of Ãcariya Mun, so he could return from the
dead to teach again – pointing out that with my
stupidity I could never possibly teach others the
way – I would agree immediately, provided I could
confirm what he said to be true. If he could
guarantee that Ãcariya Mun would return in exchange
for my life, I would quickly arrange for my own
death then and there without a second’s delay. In
truth, I’ve been quite troubled by my own stupidity
for a long time now. Although no one has ever
requested that I exchange my life for Ãcariya Mun’s
return, I am constantly disappointed, that in
writing his biography, I am unable to remember so
many things he kindly recounted to me in such
detail. Because of my poor memory, so much of what
he said has been lost. I feel rather apologetic even
about what I have been able to remember and write
down. The little that has stuck in my memory is a
bit like a pet animal that sticks to its owner, no
matter what, and never runs away. In any case, what
is written here can merely serve to whet the
reader’s appetite, as words alone cannot properly
convey the mystery of these things.

In modern-day Thailand, Ãcariya
Mun was the person responsible for reviving an
interest in experiencing these internal and external
insights, though very few people could hope to
perceive such mysterious phenomena nearly as well as
he did. It’s almost as though Ãcariya Mun was
practicing for the sake of sharp vision and clear
understanding, while the rest of us were practicing
for the sake of blind ignorance, and were thus never
able to see as he did. The fact that so little has
been written here about his unusual abilities is a
result of my own failure to take enough interest in
these matters when he explained them to us. Still,
to my knowledge, none of his disciples possessing
similar abilities ever contradicted what he said
about them. Instead, they themselves bore witness to
the existence of these mysterious things. Which
should be enough of an indication to convince the
rest of us, who are not sufficiently skilled in
their perception, that these things do exist even
though they are hidden from view. In the same way,
the Lord Buddha was the first person to attain
enlightenment and the first person to perceive many
mysterious phenomena – attainments that his Arahant
disciples were eventually able to duplicate, and
bear witness to.

I N OUR PRESENT TIME, the sort of
unusual phenomena that was perceptible to Ãcariya
Mun ceased to be mysterious to a few of his
contemporaries who possessed an ability similar to
his. This is evident in the case of another
mysterious affair that, though quite intriguing, is
likely to raise doubts among those of us who are
self-confessed skeptics. While Ãcariya Mun lived at
Ban Nong Pheu monastery, an elderly, white-robed lay
woman from the local community, who had great
respect for him, came to the monastery and told him
about an experience she had in meditation. As she
sat in meditation late one night, her citta
‘converged’, dropping deeply into samãdhi. Remaining
absolutely still in that state for a time, she began
to notice a very fine threadlike tentacle ﬂowing out
of her citta and away from her body. Her curiosity
aroused, she followed the ﬂow of her citta to find
out where it had slipped away to, what it was doing,
and why. In doing so she discovered that this subtle
ﬂow of consciousness was preparing to reserve a new
birthplace in the womb of her own niece who lived in
the same village – this despite the fact that she
herself was still very much alive. This discovery
shocked her, so she quickly brought her citta back
to its base and withdrew from samãdhi. She was
greatly troubled for she knew that her niece was
already one month pregnant.

The next morning she hurried off to
the monastery and related the whole affair to
Ãcariya Mun. Listening quietly, many of the monks
overheard what she said. Having never heard anything
like it before, we were all puzzled by such a
strange tale. I was especially interested in this
affair and how Ãcariya Mun would respond to the
elderly lady. We sat perfectly still in breathless
anticipation, all eyes on Ãcariya Mun, waiting to
hear his reply. He sat with eyes closed for about
two minutes and then spoke to the elderly lady,
telling her precisely what she should do.

“The next time your citta ‘converges’
into calm like that carefully examine the ﬂow of
your citta. Should you notice that the ﬂow of your
citta has again gone outward, then you must
concentrate on severing that outward ﬂow with
intuitive wisdom. If you succeed in completely
cutting it off with wisdom, it will not reappear in
the future. But it’s imperative that you carefully
examine it and then fully concentrate on severing it
with wisdom. Don’t just do it half-heartedly, or
else, I warn you, when you die you’ll be reborn in
your niece’s womb. Remember well what I’m telling
you. If you don’t succeed in cutting off this
outward ﬂow of your citta, when you die you will
surely be reborn in your niece’s womb. I have no
doubt about this.”

Having received this advice, the
elderly lady returned home. Two days later she came
to the monastery looking bright and cheer- ful. It
didn’t require any special insight to tell from her
expression that she had been successful. Ãcariya Mun
began questioning her the moment she sat down.

“What happened? Did you manage to
prevent yourself from being reborn within your
niece’s womb despite being very much alive?”

“Yes, I severed that connection the
very first night. As soon as my citta ‘converged’
into a state of complete calm, focusing my attention
there, I saw exactly what I had seen before. So I
concentrated on severing it with intuitive wisdom,
just as you said, until it finally snapped apart.
Again last night I examined it thoroughly and
couldn’t find anything – it had simply disappeared.
Today I could not wait any longer. I just had to
come and tell you about it.”

“Well, that is a good example of how
very subtle the citta can be. Only someone who
practices meditation can become aware of such things
– there is no other way. You nearly fell prey to the
kilesas, which were preparing to shove you into your
niece’s womb without you being aware of it. It’s a
good thing you uncovered it in your meditation and
managed to correct it in time.”

Shortly after the ﬂow of her aunt’s
citta to her womb had been severed, the woman’s
niece had a miscarriage, thus cutting that
connection for good.

Soon the monks in the monastery began
pondering two questions related to that incident:
one to do with the rebirth of a person who has yet
to die, the other to do with miscarriages. The old
woman never told anyone in the village about what
happened, so no one else knew about it. But having
heard the whole affair as it was related to Ãcariya
Mun, the monks were well informed about the
incident. This prompted several questions, so the
monks asked Ãcariya Mun for an explanation. To the
question: “How could a person who has not yet died
begin to take birth in a womb?”, he answered as
follows:

“She was merely preparing to take
birth, the process had not been completed yet. It’s
quite common for preparations to be made before the
work takes place. In this case, she was making the
preparations but she had yet to finalize them. So it
would be incorrect to say that a person can be
reborn while she is still alive. But had she not
been so perceptive, she would certainly have
established a new home in her niece’s womb.”

To the second question: “Isn’t
severing the ﬂow of the citta, connecting the
elderly lady to her niece, tantamount to destroying
a human life?”, he answered as follows:

“What was there to destroy? She
merely severed the ﬂow of her citta. She didn’t cut
off the head of a living being. The true citta
remained with that woman the whole time; it simply
sent a tentacle out to latch on to her niece. As
soon as she realized it and cut the outward ﬂow of
her citta to break that connection, that was the end
of the matter.”

The important point here was, Ãcariya
Mun did not contradict the old woman when she
described how the ﬂow of her
citta had stolen out to reserve a place in her
niece’s womb. He did not dispute the truth of her
experience, telling her that she was mistaken or
that she should reconsider the nature of her
assumptions. Instead, he responded by addressing her
experience directly.

This story is very intriguing because
there was in fact a good reason why her citta ﬂowed
out to her niece. The woman said she had always been
very fond of her niece, keeping in constant touch
and always doting on her. But she never suspected
that anything mysterious lurked in their
relationship, waiting to sneak out and cause her to
be reborn as her niece’s child. If Ãcariya Mun had
not helped to solve this problem, she would have
ended up in that young woman’s womb for sure.

Ãcariya Mun stated that it is far
beyond the average person’s capabilities to fathom
the citta’s extraordinary complexity, making it very
difficult for them to properly look after the citta
and avoid jeopardizing their own well-being. Had
that woman possessed no basis in samãdhi meditation,
she would have had no means of understanding the way
the citta functions in relation to living and dying.
Consequently, samãdhi meditation is an effective
means of dealing correctly with the citta. This is
especially true at critical junctures in life when
mindfulness and wisdom are extremely important aids
to understanding and caring for the citta. When
these faculties are well developed, they are able to
effectively intervene and neutralize severe pain so
that it does not overwhelm the heart at the time of
death.

Death is an absolutely crucial time
when defeat means, at the very least, a missed
opportunity for the next life. For instance, someone
who misses out at death may be reborn as an animal
and be forced to waste time, stuck for the duration
of that animal’s life and suffering the agony of
that lowly existence as well. If, however, the citta
is skillful, having enough mindfulness to properly
support it, then a human birth is the least one can
expect. Over and above that, one may be reborn in a
heavenly realm and enjoy a variety of celestial
pleasures for a long time before being reborn
eventually as a human being again. When reborn as a
human being, the virtuous tendencies, that were
developed in previous lives, are not forgotten. In
this way, the power of an individual’s inherent
virtue increases gradually with each successive
birth until the citta gains the strength and ability
to look after itself. Dying then becomes merely a
process by which an individual exchanges one bodily
form for another, progressing from lower to higher,
from grosser to ever more refined forms of existence
– and eventually from the cycle of saÿsãra to the
freedom of Nibbãna. This is similar to the way that
the Lord Buddha and his Arahant disciples raised the
quality of successive existences over many
lifetimes, while altering their spiritual makeup
steadily until there were no more changes to be
made. Thus it is that a citta trained in virtue
through each successive rebirth, is eventually
transformed into the treasure of Nibbãna. All of
which stems directly from the citta being trained
gradually, step by step, in the way of virtue. For
this reason, wise, intelligent men and women of all
ages never tire of doing good deeds that redound to
their spiritual credit, always enhancing their
well-being now and in the future.

I FEEL I MUST APOLOGIZE to
the reader for meandering so much in telling Ãcariya
Mun’s story. I am trying very hard to present his
biography in an orderly fashion, but my inherent
forgetfulness has caused me to mix up the subject
matter, putting first what should have come last,
while putting last what should have come first.
Although the story of Ãcariya Mun’s life has already
drawn to a close, I am still tacking on
afterthoughts that I failed to remember earlier on.
Because of this tendency, there’s still no end in
sight. As you read along you’ll see how unreliable I
am at arranging events in their proper sequence.

ANOTHER INTRIGUING INCIDENT took
place one morning at Ban Nong Pheu monastery when
Ãcariya Mun, rising from meditation, came out of his
room and, before anyone spoke, immediately told the
monks to look under his hut and tell him whether or
not they could see the track of a large snake
imprinted in the dirt there. He explained to them
that the night before a great nãga had come to visit
him and to listen to Dhamma. Before it left, he had
asked it to leave some marks on the ground as a
visible sign to show the monks in the morning. The
monks informed him that they could see the track of
a very large snake trailing out from underneath his
hut and into the forest. There being no other tracks
leading in, they could not tell how it had gotten
there. The only visible track was the one going out
from under his hut. The ground around his hut was
swept clean so other tracks would have been easily
noticed; but there were no others; only the one.
Ãcariya Mun told them they need not look for others
because they wouldn’t find them. He reiterated that
the nãga left directly from his hut soon after he
requested it to leave a mark on the ground below.

Had the monks seen the track first
and then asked Ãcariya Mun about it, the incident
would not be so thought-provoking. The intriguing
fact is that Ãcariya Mun immediately broached the
subject first, without being prompted; and sure
enough, they then found the track of a large snake
under his hut. Which means that, perceiving the nãga
with his inner eye, he told it to leave some visible
mark for the monks to see with their physical eyes,
since their inner eyes were blind and they had no
way to see the nãga when it came to visit.

Later when they had an
opportunity, the monks asked Ãcariya Mun whether
the nãgas who visited him appeared in a serpent-like
form or in some other form. He replied that one
could never be sure with nãgas how they would
appear.

“If they come for the purpose of
listening to Dhamma, as they did last night, then
they’ll come in the form of a human being of a
comparable social status to their own. A great nãga
will come in the guise of a sovereign king
surrounded by a royal entourage. Its comportment
will be very regal in every respect; so when I
discuss Dhamma with it I use royal terms of speech,
just as I would with any royal personage. Its
entourage resembles a delegation of government
officials accompanying a crowned head of state. They
all behave in a most polite, respectful manner –
much more so than we humans do. They sit perfectly
still when listening to Dhamma, showing no signs of
restlessness. When discussing Dhamma with me, the
leader always speaks on behalf of the whole group.
Anyone with a question will refer it to the leader
first. Then he asks me and I give a reply. Once I
have answered all their questions, they all depart
together.”

HERE IS ANOTHER INCIDENT that
we can take on faith about Ãcariya Mun’s
extraordinary abilities, even though its true nature
lies beyond our comprehension. A certain monk
noticed that Ãcariya Mun liked to smoke a particular
brand of cigarettes, so he told a lay supporter to
use some money he had been offered to buy some for
Ãcariya Mun. The lay supporter complied; and the
monk then offered them to Ãcariya Mun. At first
Ãcariya Mun said nothing, probably because he was
speaking on Dhamma at the time and did not have any
opportunity to investigate the matter. But, the
following morning when that monk went to see him, he
ordered him to take the cigarettes away. He said
that he would not smoke them since they were owned
in common by many different people. The monk in
question assured Ãcariya Mun that the cigarettes
belonged to him alone, since he had told a lay
supporter to buy them with his own money the day
before. He specifically had them purchased as an
offering for Ãcariya Mun, so they could not possibly
be owned in common by many people. Ãcariya Mun
reiterated that he wanted them taken away. Being
owned in common by many different people, the
offering was not ‘pure’, so he did not want to smoke
them.

Not daring to press the issue any
further for fear of being rebuked, the monk was
obliged to take back the cigarettes. He sent for the
lay supporter who had purchased them for him and
asked what had happened. It turned out that this
layman had taken money belonging to many different
monks, all of whom instructed him to buy some
necessity or other. He had used the money left over
from those purchases to buy the cigarettes. The monk
asked him for the names of the monks whose money was
involved, and then hurried off to find them. Once he
explained about the mix-up with the cigarettes, each
was more than happy to see them offered to Ãcariya
Mun. So the monk took the cigarettes and once more
offered them to Ãcariya Mun, confessing that he was
really at fault for not questioning the layman
thoroughly about the matter first. He acknowledged
that Ãcariya Mun was exactly right: the layman
confirmed that he had taken money belonging to many
different monks and put it all together to make
various purchases. Since all the monks had been
asked and were happy to share the offer of
cigarettes to Ãcariya Mun, he was offering them
again. Ãcariya Mun took them without saying a word
and the matter was never mentioned again.

Later, that monk told some of his
fellow monks how he first tried unsuccessfully to
contradict Ãcariya Mun, only to discover in the end
that Ãcariya Mun was exactly right. Some monks were
puzzled as to how he could possibly have known whose
money was involved in the cigarette purchase since
he had never been informed about it. One monk at
this informal meeting spoke up, protesting
vigorously.

“Were he simply like the rest of us,
obviously he wouldn’t have known a thing. But it’s
precisely because he is so very different from us
that we respect him and admire his superior wisdom.
All of us gathered here under his tutelage realize
that his capabilities are as different from ours as
day is from night. Although I don’t know much, I do
know for certain that he is wiser and more
knowledgeable than I am in every way. I see he is
truly above reproach, which is why I have entrusted
my life to him and his training methods with
self-effacing humility. My heart is still full of
kilesas, but those kilesas are very afraid of him,
so they don’t dare show their faces in his presence.
I believe this is due to my willingness to surrender
to him out of fear and respect, an attitude far more
powerful than these vile kilesas, which naturally
tend to oppose the teacher. Confronted by Ãcariya
Mun, they give up completely, not daring to display
the same reckless abandon they do when I live with
other teachers. If we feel we cannot submit
wholeheartedly to his judgment, then we do not
belong here under his guidance. Should we persist in
staying under those conditions, we will not benefit
at all – only harm will come. What more need be said
after this incident with the cigarettes.”

Just an unwholesome train of thought
in the middle of the night was enough to elicit a
stern response from him the next morning. Meeting
Ãcariya Mun, the offending monk would be met by his
sharp, penetrating gaze, a gaze that seemed to
pierce the culprit and tear him to pieces. In a
situation like that it was inadvisable to approach
him or attempt to help him with his requisites,
since he would strictly refuse to allow that monk to
do anything for him. It was his indirect way of
tormenting the monk’s innate stubbornness. But it is
strange how a monk initially felt quite chastened,
yet somehow the effect didn’t last long. He felt
chastened at the moment he was stung by a severe
reprimand; but later, when Ãcariya Mun spoke to him
in a normal tone of voice he would let down his
guard and make the same mistake again. Despite
having no intention of thinking in ways that were
harmful to himself, he was simply unable to keep up
with his own restive thoughts, which tended to jump
from one thing to another quicker than a horde of
wild monkeys. Later on, when the same monk went to
see Ãcariya Mun again, he could sense immediately
that he was not welcome – just the look in Ãcariya
Mun’s eyes was enough to make him extremely wary.
Even with that, he had yet to fully learn his
lesson. After a while,
if the dangers of
his way of thinking were not brought home again to
him, he would inadvertently begin to befriend
those harmful thoughts once more, entertaining them
as if they were actually something worthwhile. That
is why I say that, despite feeling quite chastened,
somehow the effect didn’t last long. When he not
only felt chastened but also remained very conscious
of the fear of revisiting those thoughts, then the
positive effects were long-lasting. His mind
remained cool, calm, and peaceful throughout. The
next time he went to see Ãcariya Mun, he needn’t be
so fearful about being taken to task.

My own mind tended to react in a very
similar fashion. Being unable to rely on myself
alone, I could not allow myself to stray
far from my teacher. Living with him I was always
fearful and on guard, which prevented my thoughts
from deviating from the path of practice. Becoming
quickly aware when my mind did stray, I was able to
pull it back in time to avoid harmful consequences.

I am absolutely convinced that
Ãcariya Mun could read my thoughts. Whether or not
he could read other people’s thoughts doesn’t
concern me so much. What does concerns me is how he
used that ability to mitigate my own stubborn
tendencies and teach me a good lesson. There was a
time, when I first went to stay with him, that I
thought, rather bizarrely: They say that Ãcariya Mun
can read other people’s thoughts, that he knows
everything we’re thinking. Can this really be true?
If it is true, then he needn’t take an interest in
everything I’m thinking – I just want to know if
he’s aware of what I’m thinking right now. That
would be enough. If he does know what I’m thinking
at this moment, I will prostrate myself before him.
That’s all I ask of him

Coming face to face with him that
evening I could hardly sit still. As his eyes glared
directly at me without blinking, I felt in my heart
that he was about to shout and point straight at me.
When he began speaking to the assembled monks, I was
so worried about being singled out and scolded for
stubbornly testing him, that I had a hard time
paying attention. Before long his voice began
cracking like a whip as it rained down blows all
around me, brushing past and narrowly missing me
time and again until finally the whip lashed into
the very core of my being. I became flushed as my
body shook uncontrollably. The more my fear mounted,
the more agitated I became until all traces of
contentment vanished from my heart. While I sat
there, his voice kept whipping and lashing at my
heart, his words hitting home time and time again
until by the end of his talk I could no longer bear
the pressure. My heart gave in to him, thinking: I
thought as I did simply because I wanted to know if
you could truly read other people’s thoughts. I had
no intention of disparaging your other virtuous
qualities. I now acknowledge that you are a true
master in every respect, so I wish to entrust my
life to you until the day I die. Please have
compassion for me and assist me with your teaching.
Please don’t become fed up with me because of this
one incident.

Once my heart completely surrendered
to him, the fiery tone in his voice began to
subside. Finally he concluded by elucidating a basic
principle.

“Right and wrong both exist within
yourself. Why don’t you take an interest in looking
there? What’s the point in meddling in the rights
and wrongs of others? Is this the type of thinking
that will make you a good, skillful person? Even
though you may find out how good or skillful someone
else is, if you yourself are neither good nor
skillful, then you will never be successful. If you
want to know how good other people are, first you
must thoroughly examine yourself; then, knowledge
about others will come on its own. There is no need
to test them to find out. Good, skillful people do
not have to resort to such testing. A good person
who is truly skillful in Dhamma can know about
others without having to test them.”

Ãcariya Mun ended his talk to the
monks on this note. I almost fainted at the time,
sitting there soaked with sweat. Surrendering to him
completely that night, I learned a lesson I’ve never
forgotten – never again did I dare to test him out.
Had I been as severely chastened about matters
concerning my own practice as I was that night about
matters concerning Ãcariya Mun, then I would
probably have transcended dukkha long ago. But,
alas, I have never been able to chasten myself to
such good effect, which really rankles me sometimes.

This was another issue that the monks
discussed secretly among themselves at their
informal meeting, which I also attended. Since this
incident involved me personally, I’ve included it
here with the story about the cigarettes to
highlight the principle that the truth about the
nature of Truth exists all around us everywhere, at
all times – akãliko. All that’s required is that we
practice sincerely until we attain the Truth; then
we will surely understand the nature of that Truth,
the fullest extent of our understanding being
conditioned only by the natural limitations of our
inherent abilities. This includes the intrinsic
truths, or saccadhamma, as well as all the various
forms of extrinsic knowledge. Keep in mind also that
people differ in the type and degree of the inherent
good qualities they have developed through
successive existences, as well as the spiritual
goals they have variously set for themselves. But
the primary results of magga, phala, and Nibbãna do
not differ. These results are the same for everyone
who attains them.